


A Family You Make

by orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, OT3, Penelope is my Girl, Polyamory, Sad Derek, Sad Reid, Sexy Times, Threesome - F/M/M, Vacation Romps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He's too shy. She's too brash. It shouldn't work. But because of HIM, it does. Only how he's crumbling, so it's up to the two of them to figure out how to put him back together, before the whole thing comes crashing down. Because, at the end of the world, the question you don't want to be left with is - what happened to the family we made?





	1. Never Expected

Spencer walked through the front door and dropped his messenger bag onto the hallway table. He heard his aluminum water bottle clatter against the tabletop, and then was struck by silence. Their house was so seldomly completely quiet. It was rare for them to arrive home at different times. Spencer felt the silence fill him, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he felt the quiet enter his bones. 

He would never have said anything, but sometimes he felt like he didn’t get enough quiet. It had been quite the adjustment, moving from his studio apartment -- his books, his records, his research -- into a house full of people. People he loved, but still. Loud, messy, chaotic people. It’s not that he wasn’t happy, but standing in the middle of a silent hallway was a revelation. Until, of course, the illusion of solitude was shattered. He heard a series of crashes from behind the heavy door of Penelope’s office.

“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!”

“Hey, Garcia. How’s it going?”

“Hey, Reid. Last I checked, the structural integrity of this house is fine, so you can probably stop leaning in that doorway and come give me a hand.”

Spencer chuckled and crossed the threshold, something he never did without Penelope’s express permission. Her office was a cross between Mecca and a storage locker, with a dash of Woodstock color palette, and Spencer was never quite sure what was fair game to touch. He knelt on the floor and picked up an old hard drive that had made its way almost out the door. He set it on the end table before picking up a few more pieces further into the room.

“So what happened?”

“I was trying to switch my tower and monitor set up, see if I could squeeze room for another panel monitor on the desk and another external solid state behind the tower units if I scrambled stuff around. Unfortunately, no such luck.”

“You mean four monitors and three steady state drives isn’t enough for the stuff you need to do here at home?” Spencer was genuinely curious. He may be a genius, but he and Penelope had such differing specialties. Some of the finer points of her work eluded him. She glared at him from the floor, curly blonde hair flopping onto her forehead before she tried to blow it back.

“Just get down here and help me put this tower back together, funny guy.” Spencer joined her on the floor, longs legs folding underneath him. “So...how was your day off?”

“Good! I managed to get to the new special exhibit at the Smithsonian. Did you know that the German word kummerspeck means excess weight gained from emotional overeating? Literally, ‘grief bacon.’”

“What was this exhibit on, Reid?”

“Anthropological Linguistic Development and the Psychosocial Relationship to Food,” he said, with all the excitement of a teenager just returned from the new Michael Bay movie. “A series of researchers studied the way different histories and cultures have interacted with food, and how that relationship with food can affect the structures of the brain, both physical and chemical.”

Penelope tipped her head back and grinned at him. “I love you, Spencer, but you know I wasn’t listening to like half of that, right?” 

He grinned back.  “I do. How was your day off, Penelope?”

“It was great, until…” Her voice trailed off and she gestured at the technological rubble around them. “But, you know. Small setbacks in the path of interminable progress are inevitable, right?”

“Right.” They slipped into comfortable silence. Spencer lifted computer parts from the carpet and handed them to Penelope, who slowly reassembled a pair of towers. They were nearly finished when the lock in the front door flipped and footsteps crossed the hallway. 

Derek Morgan gently nudged the door open with his foot, smiling down at the two people he loved the most in the world. Fresh from a workout in the complex gym, his skin was still damp with sweat. He set his duffle down by the door before entering Penelope’s office to survey the damage. 

“Well, momma? What happened here?”

“Long story, lover,” she said, sitting up on her knees so Derek could kiss her. Spencer watched as Penelope leaned into the kiss, a hand pressed to Derek’s chest, Derek’s hand covering hers until he pulled away. Derek looked into her eyes and brushed her curls away from her forehead. “How was your workout?” She sat back and picked up the fan unit she’d dropped when Derek entered the office.

“Shit. But, you know, that’s alright. It will be, until I can get my shoulder fully rehabbed and ready to go. I’ve got to get back to the Bureau, man. It’s driving me up the wall.”

“Don’t worry, Derek. Statistically, 87% of patients-” Derek cut Spencer off with a firm kiss. Spencer was stiff and surprised for a moment before he relaxed into the Chapstick and salt-sweat taste that of Derek after the gym. Derek crouched in front of him, and Spencer’s hands gently traced Derek’s sculpted back, goosebumps rising beneath his fingers.

“You know the rules, kid,” Derek said, laughter in his voice. “No statistics before hello. Now, what were you saying?”

“Sorry. Hello.” Spencer kept stroking his fingers across Derek’s back. “Also, 87% of patients who have gone through your surgery and rehabilitation program have recovered full mobility and efficacy. You’re going to be fine.” 

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I already WAS fine. But no use wasting breath on it, now. Help me with dinner?”

“Of course.” Spencer took Derek’s proffered hands, pulling himself up. Derek’s hand came to rest lightly on Spencer’s bony hip, and Spencer shivered. “You coming, Garcia?’

“Nah, I have to get this done. I’ll take care of the wine, yes? I’ll meet you boys in the kitchen.” They nodded and Derek headed towards the kitchen. Before leaving, Spencer ducked down and put his finger beneath Penelope’s chin. He lifted her face and placed a feather-light kiss on her still-swollen lips. It wasn’t the same kind of kiss Derek gave, but it was an amazing kiss nonetheless.

“I love you, Penelope. Don’t take too long, okay?”

“Sure thing, Spence. I love you, too.”

Spencer walked out of the office and shut the door gently behind him, taking a second to lean back against the door and close his eyes. He could hear Derek in the kitchen; pots and pans being shifted, the slight sucking noise of the refrigerator door as it was opened and shut. Behind him he could hear Penny singing to herself as she finished putting her computers together.  _ Noise _ , he thought.  _ So much noise here. Lovely, beautiful, constant noise _ . It was the sound of a family he’d never expected find.


	2. Grey Suit Kind of Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all had to start somewhere.

Penelope Garcia would never quite get used to the reality of her job. If she slowed down to think about, she could trace her path from hacker ingenue to FBI tech genius, but that didn’t make it feel any less surreal.

Her first day on the job she’d tried to look the part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit’s newest employee. But the horribly fitting grey suit she’d worn was so completely unlike her; she’d gone the entire day feeling like she was wearing someone else’s clothes. She didn’t feel like herself until she’d gotten to her car, stripping out of her suit jacket and sweater to the neon-pink and green striped tank top underneath.

That was also the moment Spencer Reid had knocked on her car window. She’d been so startled she screamed. She was a little surprised he hadn’t run for the hills.

“Your name is Penelope, right?”

Penelope nodded, one hand still pressed to her chest, trying to keep her galloping heart where it belonged.

“I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.” He stuck a skinny arm through the window and she shook his hand, not quite sure what to say.

“Yeah, I know...we met earlier today, remember?”

“Of course. I don’t forget much.” Spencer chuckled, though at the time she didn't know why. She turned the key in the ignition, not wanting to be rude, but already very much done with her first day at a new job. A job that was more horrifying than any hacking she’d ever done. “But I just wanted to, you know, introduce myself again. I know it can be emotionally overwhelming to start a new job, and a brain flooded with serotonin, epinephrine, and adrenaline isn’t likely to retain much of what it’s introduced to.”

“A brain flooded with...yeah. Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m looking forward to working with you. With the whole team, actually.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ex-excuse me?” Penelope was bone tired and she wanted to go home. Hearing a bunch of babble from a nice, if awkward, guy in a parking lot was a bit much.

“You’re not looking forward to it. I saw your face when we were putting away the case photos. It’s okay, you know. None of us really like being here. Except maybe Hotch. I think Hotch might live here, if the BAU would let him. It’s not the kind of job you really _like_ being at, you know what I mean?”

Penelope studied his face, trying to suss out whether or not he was sincere. She was a pretty solid judge of character. None of her usual alarm bells were ringing, but even so. It was too much like reading her mind and she was half convinced he was trying to, like, entrap her or something. Maybe to get her fired. She couldn’t see anything but sincerity in the wide eyes looking back at her, though, so she turned the car off and decided to show this guy just a smidge of the real Penelope.

“Touche, my muffin. You are correct. Those pictures? That man and what he did to those two sweet girls? I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing stuff like that. If I’ll ever be okay with it. But at least I’ll go home knowing I helped to stop the guy, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what Morgan always says, too.” Penelope thought she saw something flicker across the young man’s face when he said Morgan’s name, but she couldn’t really be sure.

“Morgan? Which one was she?”

“No - Morgan. Derek Morgan. Big, beautiful black guy who yelled at you across the room today? Got your name wrong?”

“Ah. Yeah. That guy. He seems...confident.”

“I think cocky is the word that most women use. And yeah. He is.” This time Penelope was sure she heard a trace of cool jealousy. This was clearly part of the Office Politics Pool that she just wasn’t ready to jump into, yet.

“Well, you know him better than I do!” She forced cheer into her voice, hoping the finality of the topic would give her the chance to slip away and head home.

“Wait! Before you go, I didn’t just come over here to introduce myself again. I also wanted to give you this.” Spencer handed her a small George Washington bobblehead. Its violent bobbling was made worse by a glittery feather taped to the side of his ceramic tricorn hat.

“What is this?”

“Tradition. Newest person on the team has to be the keeper of Bobble George. Hotch bought him, then gave him to JJ, who gave him to Derek, and so on. I’ve had him for a while, but it’s your turn now!”

Penelope couldn’t help but smile. She’d always loved knicknacks, and was a sucker for traditions. She felt a small space open in her chest, some of that panicked pressure slip away as she let happiness sink in. _Maybe some parts of this job will make it easier to bear_ , she thought. She flicked the end of George’s nose and his head bobbled wildly, bits of glitter on the feather throwing prisms across her car’s dashboard. “I like his feather,” she said quietly.

“Oh, that’s a little something special. I added that, just for you.”

“You did? Why?”

“You don’t seem like a grey suit kind of girl.” Spencer glanced briefly at her brightly colored tank top. His eyes hovered for a heavy second on the tops of her breasts before returning to look her in the eyes. Penelope felt a blush creep across her cheeks. “And judging by that very non-bureau color you’re wearing, it looks like I was right.” He stepped back from the car, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, and looked at her intently.

“Well, thanks Spencer.” She set the ceramic George carefully on the passenger seat and put her seatbelt on, slipping the car into reverse.

“You’re welcome, Penelope...Can I tell you something? The underlying bluer tones in your skin lead to this really aesthetically pleasing-” Penelope coughed pointedly, smiling. “You look really pretty in pink,” he finished, turning on his heels and almost running away from the car.

The suddenness of his departure caught her off guard even more than his sudden arrival had. She watched his retreating back in her rear-view mirror before picking up the bobblehead, again. She ran her thumb lightly over the feather, watching the light dance. _Well, at least I met one nice person today. The fact that he happened to be a cute guy? Total bonus._ She took her foot off the break and felt the car slip slowly backwards.

 

 

“Spencer, I told you like fifteen minutes ago that I needed you to chop up that chicken for me!”

“Sorry, Der.  I was reading this article in The Scientific American about this new mold colony they managed to--”

“NO MOLD TALK while I’m making dinner, Spence! We’ve talked about this before!”

Penelope laughed, listening to the men she loved most in the world figure out the fastest way to get the fajitas on the table. Spencer was a genius, but he was also easily distracted. And since Derek had been on leave from the Bureau, he’d been so touchy. Another thing Penelope couldn’t think too closely about: almost losing Derek.

Penelope put the last few port connectors into the finished computer tower before standing and brushing dust from her pants. She set the tower next to the others, determined to come back as soon as she could and put them back in their proper place.

For now, she had a family dinner to get to.


	3. Just Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pissing, moaning, and praying for everything to be different.

“Excuse me, Gomez?” Nothing. “Hey, baby girl.” She rotated slowly, the incredulity in her eyes a look he was incredibly familiar with. That one always seemed to work. 

“Baby girl?”

“Forgive me, I just didn’t know…”

“I’ve been called worse. What can I do for you?”

Just like that they were Penelope and Derek. Derek had never struggled to find female companionship, but it was different with Penelope. He’d never been able to talk to someone like he could talk to her. Sure, she said things that flustered him, but he did the same. Without that, they wouldn’t be who they were.

Which is why it was so fucking hard to be stuck at home. He hadn’t realized how much they travelled, how long their hours were, until there was nothing he could do but sit at home and wait for Spencer and Penelope to return. He’d gone a little stir crazy the first few weeks, and his physical therapist had warned him that by overdoing his PT he was in danger of losing progress. More time stuck in front of the TV and away from the Bureau might literally drive him insane. It was a difficult balancing act.

Penelope and Spencer were doing their best. He knew they were. But it was hard for them. His baby girl was always so damn cheerful, and Spencer still hadn’t mastered when to shut off the analytics and just  _ be there  _ for him. Maybe he was asking too much of them. Derek knew he couldn’t ask them to stay home, join in his pity party instead of leaving with the team. He didn’t  _ want  _ to ask them to stay home, not when they could be helping put the world’s monsters where they belonged. But he still missed them, and he worried about them, and if there was one thing Derek Morgan was used to, it was keeping the people in his life safe enough that he didn’t need to worry. He couldn’t protect them from home, though, so he sat, and did his PT, and pissed and moaned and prayed that whatever good was in the universe brought them home safe every time.

“What wine did you want me to open?” Opening wine was just about the only part of dinner Garcia ever helped with, mostly because Morgan and Spencer had run out of polite ways to avoid her culinary concoctions. Morgan glanced up from peppers and onions that were just on the edge of burning, catching the tail end of that worried look that crossed her face more and more as his recovery dragged on. She could tell he wasn’t happy, but neither of them knew how to fix it.

“How about we go with a red tonight?”

“White is traditionally more appropriate for a poultry meal,” Spencer said absentmindedly, slicing chicken breasts into strips. “The heavier taste of red wine can easily overpower a delicate and slightly bland food like chicken.”

“White it is, then,” Derek said. There wasn’t much point arguing with Spencer Reid. Penelope nodded and grabbed the last bottle of white out of the fridge, grabbing the wine bottle opener out of a kitchen drawer before bumping it closed with her hip. Both men looked up at the satisfying pop the cork made as it slipped from the bottle. Penelope placed two wine glasses on the counter, one for her and one for Morgan. Spencer wasn’t much of a drinker, not since his Dilaudid addiction. He’d been terrified to do much of anything that related to any kind of substance intake. He’d even stopped taking his anxiety meds for a while, a decision that put the whole house on edge and that came to an abrupt end on one of the scariest nights of Derek’s life.

  
  


It was the fourth night in a row of waking to one of Spencer’s panic attacks, hearing first him and then Penelope calling for Derek from Spencer’s room. The final night had been something else. Spencer shook, rocking back and forth on the bed. Tears streamed down his face and his breath came in thin, ragged gasps between cracked lips. He pulled at his hair, as if trying to pull the panic from his brain. Derek sat in front of him on the floor while Penelope rubbed his back and tried desperately to disentangle Spencer’s hands from his hair. When they’d hit the third hour, Derek called 911. 

He stood in the hallway and held Penelope in his arms as the med techs escorted Spencer downstairs and into the ambulance. It was equal parts terrifying and devastating. Derek wondered if this moment would keep repeating. If this was what hell was like, watching someone you love suffer in a way you can’t stop, in a way you’re powerless to help. Derek knew Penelope felt the same way as she curled into his chest and cried.

They followed the ambulance to the hospital, barely speaking as they waited to see Spencer, waited with Spencer to see the doctor, waited for the 72-hour psychiatric hold to be complete and for Spencer’s medication to take effect. When the three of them finally left the hospital together, they were dazed.

That night, Spencer made Derek promise he wouldn’t ever call the doctor again for something like that. The evaluation made Spencer feel trapped, contained, and mocked, all feelings he’d struggled with growing up. Derek had promised on the condition that Spencer took his meds. Spencer agreed, but Penelope had refused to promise under any condition. She didn’t want that ‘on her head,’ she told Derek. It was still a sore subject, so everyone in the house strove to ignore the tension and resume normal life as quickly as possible. 

And now the three of them worked together, assembling Derek’s famous chicken fajitas for dinner. Derek watched as Spencer finished slicing the chicken and slid it into the pan next to the onions and peppers. He kissed Derek on the cheek as he scooted past, putting the cutting board in the sink. Spencer crossed the kitchen to the living room, flipping on lamps as he went, and slid into his spot on the couch, furthest from the TV and nearest to the bookcase. He picked up a book from a stack Derek would have sworn wasn’t there an hour ago and was immediately immersed in his reading. Derek let his eyes trace over the contours of Spencer’s face, the way his small, perfect teeth played with the contours of his bottom lip when he concentrated, the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones in the dim lamplight. Derek was just thinking about how much he wanted to kiss Spencer in the exact spot those shadows landed when an arm slide around his waist.

“Hey, my pile of sweet brown sugar. Penelope for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about how much I love the two of you.” Penelope followed his gaze across the room to Reid and smiled.

“You know we love you, too, right?” She tried to keep her voice light. Tried and failed miserably. 

Derek nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry, baby girl. I know I’ve been a real pill these past few months. But not being able to work and worrying about you two when you go…”

“But you don’t need to worry about us, Derek! We’re with the team. We’re as safe with you as we are without you.” Derek pulled back instinctively, feeling almost as if he’d been slapped. He knew she meant to reassure him, but it hurt like hell to hear her say it like that. She realized what how it sounded a second too late. “Oh, God, Derek. No. You know that’s not what I meant. I just -”

“Dinner’s up!” Derek shouted to Spencer in the living room, cutting Penelope off. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wanted a nice dinner with the people he loved. The family he’d chosen and who would, hopefully, continue to choose him back. 


	4. Expensive Undercover Operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing else left to do - Derek has to be kept safe. That means Penelope and Reid may need to go distances they'd never even considered.

“Reid, Garcia, please come in.” Hotch stepped back and gestured to the chairs across from this desk. The two exchanged nervous glances as they crossed the room, waiting nervously for Aaron to take his seat. 

“So, you two - how have things been.”

Spencer looked at Penelope, and then immediately back at his hands. He really, really wanted her to answer first - these meetings with Hotch still made him really uncomfortable.

“Things have been great, sir,” Penelope said, filling the slowly tensing silence with a voice that sounded almost obnoxiously enthusiastic. Aaron Hotchner looked at her and nodded before turning his attention to Reid.

“Is that your assessment, Reid?” Spencer sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. “Yes sir.”

“Look, you two. I know that these meetings make you uncomfortable. But lying won’t make them stop any sooner, and it’s important for the good of this team that we get Derek back as soon as possible. You both know that. So, let’s try this again - how are things at home?”

“They’re fine, Hotch,” Spencer said again. “Really. He has his good days and his bad days, like everyone does.”

“More bad days than good lately,” Penelope said quietly. Spencer shot her a look, half surprise half irritation. They had agreed, once, to try and get out of this with as much privacy as possible. Penelope shrugged. “Sorry, Spence. But I’m worried about him. You don’t - you don’t see it like I do.”

“What do you mean?!”

“He doesn’t want you to see it like I do. But he’s hurting. Badly. And he’s angry,” she looked at Hotch, her face grave. “He’s really, really angry.”

Hotchner nodded and Spencer slid further back in his seat. He couldn’t believe what Penelope had said - and in front of their boss, no less. And in the back of his head, that voice.  _ ‘He doesn’t want you to see because he doesn’t think you can handle it. He thinks you’re too weak to see that side of him.’ _

“I was afraid of that,” Hotchner said after a moment. He took a deep breath, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. At almost the same moment, Garcia and Reid felt a cold drop of dread snake it’s way down their spines. “We’ve been on the hunt for the person who did this to Derek - you both know that. What you don’t know - and what you’re not to take with you out of this room, if you value your position with the bureau - is that we think we may be closing in, and if he is where we think he is, it looks like he’s headed right back for Derek.”

All the blood drained out of Penelope’s face. “W-what?” Her mind began to spin, remembering what she and Spencer had  gone through when Derek had been shot, imagining what it might be like to go through something like that again.

“It appears that they’ve started making their way back towards DC. Every time we think we might have them, the go silent and disappear again. They might be better hackers than you are, Garcia.”

“What do we do?” Spencer was surprised to hear his own voice. From the minute Hotch had said Derek might still be in danger, his throat had closed. Bursts of light swam in front of his eyes, and he felt a panic attack starting to claw at the edges of his mind. His knuckles were white, he was holding on to the arms of the chair so tightly. That he was able to get enough air in his lungs to get words out was a bit of a minor miracle. 

“Yeah. What do we do here, Hotch? If Derek here’s this….’ Penelope trailed off, because everyone in the room knew what would happen if Derek got wind that his attempted murderers were still looking for him, still trying to track him down.

“We need to get him out of here. We need to throw off their intended plan, and we need to keep him on the move long enough to track them down. We need to keep him from knowing why, and most importantly we need to keep him as healthy as possible so he can get his ass back here. And I want you two to make all of that happen.”

“What about the team?”

“We’ll bring in temporary replacements, just like we did with Derek. Kevin can handle a bulk of the computer work, Garcia, and while no one can replace you, Reid, we’ve reached out to Dr. Lewis again, and she’s willing to come help us out. Do don’t worry about us. What you need to do is get Derek as far away as you can, as soon as you can.”

“So we’re thinking, what, Ft. Lauderdale?” Penelope tried a joke, desperately wanting to force a little more oxygen into the room. Hotch smiled - the closest thing he’d done to laughing in ages - and Spencer giggled.

“Further. The bureau was thinking Europe, preferably the smaller cities. Working with the INTERPOL forces will make tracking these guys down easier, and being international should make it easier to keep Derek distracted and off the grid.”

“So what you’re saying is that the bureau is going to fund a European  vacation?”

“No.”

“Well, Hotch -”

“-the Bureau is funding an expensive undercover operation to regain the skill and abilities of one of their strongest agents, while also catching one of the most violent group of serial murderers we’ve ever come across.”

“Ah. Yes. Absolutely.”

Hotchner stood up. “So go home. Both of you. Book your tickets into a major city, and then send the email receipt to this address,” he slid a business card across the table. “We know they’re keeping an eye on this email address, and we need to get them turned around and on your trail if we’re going to catch them. Once you arrive, you need to head to a small town  - the smaller the better - and wait for contact. We’ll get international agents out to you as much as we can, but you need to stay ready to move. Understand?”

Spencer and Penelope both nodded, gravely. Penelope picked the card up off the desk, slipping it into her wallet. “How long is this going to take, Hotch?”

Hotch came out from behind his desk, putting one hand on Penelope’s shoulder and the other on Spencer’s, and pulled them in for a surprisingly quick hug. “I wish I could tell you. As long as it takes. But we ARE working, and we ARE going to get you guys all back home and at the BAU as quickly as we possibly can.”

“Thanks, Aaron,” Reid said quietly. He patted Hotch on the back and grabbed Garcia’s hand. Penelope tossed a quick wave to Hotch, and with a deep breath, followed Spencer out the door.

 

“Hey, what are both of you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Long story, but we’re not going to work today.”

“Hold up, pretty boy. What kind of long story?”

“We got a call from your doctor today,” Penelope interrupted, scooting over on the couch and patting the cushion between her and Reid. Her laptop was sitting on the table, and as Derek got comfortable he saw the final booking page for American Airlines. “And we’re getting out of here.”

“Your doctor believes that there are several forms of physical therapy and rehabilitative treatments abroad that could speed up your recovery by at least 40%. In fact, one of the muscular regeneration facilities in France has even found that muscular regeneration of the infraspinatus fascia could be altered with the application of different forms of algaeic marine life.”

“But why would she talk to you two about this, and not me?”

“She is going to talk to you about it - at your appointment tomorrow. She just told us so that we could, you know, help her convince you,” Penelope said quickly. Too quickly. She wouldn’t make direct eye contact with him, and Derek got the small tickle that something was amiss. “Anyway, Spencer and I were thinking - we could wait and go tomorrow, after your appointment. OR we could just go now! There’s a great deal on a last minute flight into Charles de Gaulle, but we’d have to fly first class and we’d have to be at the airport in the next two hours.”

“So...you want me to get packed, showered, dressed, and at the airport in the next two hours, so that we can go to France for...my shoulder?”

“Yep!”

“Just, do this for us, okay Morgan? It’ll be fun.” There was a quiet urgency in Reid’s  voice, and when Derek looked at him, there was an edge of pain there that hadn’t been there that morning. It made Derek ache in the pit of his stomach, and he felt compelled to do whatever he could to make that edge dull. 

“Okay, yeah. Sure. It’ll be fun.”

Penelope squealed and began to bounce up and down on the couch, throwing her arms around Derek and planting a big wet kiss on his cheek. Derek laughed and Spencer smiled, standing up and holding a hand out to Derek. 

“You need to go shower. Penelope will get us booked, and I’ll get us packed.”

“Oh no you don’t! If we’re going to France at the drop of a hat, you are NOT packing for me.”

“Fine, I’ll pack. Spencer, you buy the tickets.” Penelope shoved her laptop into Spencer’s hands and headed toward their bedrooms, already assembling wardrobes in her mind. Spencer sat back down on the couch, starting an email to send to Hotch. He hadn’t started typing yet when he felt warm, strong arms slip around his neck and a warm kiss on his neck, in the hollow beneath his chin. 

“You are absolutely right. This is going to be fun.” Derek bit Spencer lightly on the ear and headed for the shower. 


	5. Penelope's Favorite Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long, tiring journey, our three heroes settle into a tiny seaside village in France with, well, a bang!

Penelope flipped onto her stomach and tossed her arm out beside her. It took her a minute to realize that the sheet was cold. Flipping the other way, she reached out for Reid, and again came up short. She sat up and looked around, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. _‘Ars-en-Ré,’_ she reminded herself. ‘ _We are in Ars-en-Ré_.’ Which is exactly where they’d been for three days and where’d they’d stay for, well, as long as it took for INTERPOL to give them the all-clear.

 

It had been surprisingly easy for Penelope to get them off the grid once they reached Paris. Between Spencer’s puppy dog eyes and her...other powers of persuasion, they’d convinced Derek to turn their therapy trip into a vacation first, with productivity to come later. The later, of course, was a ruse. At least, Penelope hoped it was. It was easy going, now, but she knew Derek. Before long he’d know they weren’t telling him the whole truth.

After they’d sold Derek on a hedonistic European adventure, Penelope spent a few hours in the Paris airport taking care of necessities. She cleared their trail, ditching their phones, and pulled out enough cash that they could lay low for a good long while. For all their faults, the Bureau came through on their promise to fund the trip.Once their safety was assured, she joined Morgan and Reid at the bar in their terminal, and the three picked a train by the flip of a coin. It landed heads up on Loix, Spencer’s choice.

When they arrived, Penelope realized it was literally the smallest town she had ever been in - less than 800 people, according to the brochure they bought in the train station. She worried they wouldn’t be able to find a car to rent, but luckily Spencer’s French was slick enough that he was able to find a local man who was selling his beat-up sedan. A quick all-cash transaction and the three were loaded up, Spencer and Penelope in front - her to navigate, him to read the street signs, while Derek dozed on and off in the back.

They spent the next several days driving to several towns along the French coast, each one smaller than the last. They traveled without reason, sometimes backtracking over ground they’d already covered, zigzagging through the kind of quaint villages Penelope would have sworn only existed in movies. After Loix, they spent almost a week in La Couarde-sur-Mer, taking slow walks along the marshy docks, lapsing into frequent comfortable silences. Then it had been the five tiny townships that made up Saint-Clément-des-Baleines, each one smaller than the last, until there was little left to explore but a church and a wood-slat dock. It was at the end of this rotation that they decided to make their way back to “cosmopolitan” Ars-en-Ré, one of the bigger seaside towns on this side of Paris.

The first night they’d arrived in Ars-en-Ré, Penelope finally felt like she could breathe freely. Between the sudden departure, the flight, making sure the three of them were untraceable, and the unmoored feeling of travelling without direction or end in sight -it was like running a marathon she hadn’t trained for. She finally started to feel human again once they’d checked into the Thalacap Ile de Ré and she’d been able to take a long, hot shower, washing off the feeling of salty skin that had plagued her for days.

“I know I’ve said this a million times since we got here, but I am SO. FUCKING. GLAD. WE. ARE. IN. FRANCE.!” She said from the couch, snuggling down into the cottony bathrobes the hotel provided.

“You and me both, baby girl,” Derek said. He was lying on his back across the giant California King bed they paid a good deal extra to upgrade to. Of the three of them, Derek had been the least endeared with their...smaller European accommodations thus far. He was quite the cuddler, and the smaller the bed, the harder that became for the three of them. Spencer was across the room on the balcony, staring out at the ocean. He turned and smiled.

“This place is beautiful.”

“So are you, pretty boy.”

Derek pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled coyly. Spencer smiled back, his cheeks reddened by the salty breeze blowing in off the coast, his pare feet making faint whispering sounds as they padded across the bare tile floor.

“You look awfully comfortable on that bed, Morgan. You got any space left for the rest of us?”

Derek patted the bed next to him and Spencer sank gratefully onto the comforter.

Penelope watched them from her place on the couch, a warm glow starting in the pit of her stomach. Reid’s shirt pulled up at the waist when he laid down, revealing the sharp cut of his hips. She thought about leaning down, kissing the smooth curves, but Derek beat her to it.

Derek bent down, his lips meeting Spencer’s with an electric softness that was palpable from across the room. Derek’s hands slipped beneath Spencer’s shirt, strong thumbs brushing lightly over the exact spot Penelope was ogling. A deep, grateful sound came from Spencer’s chest, and Penelope felt her face flush.

Penelope left the couch and pressed herself against Derek, kissing the back of his neck and letting her hands trace the shape of his back, from his broad shoulders to his peach-ably squeezable butt. She locked eyes with Spencer as Derek trailed his lips down Spencer’s neck, kissing him softly in that shallow hollow at the base of neck. Penelope bit her lip, knowing what a sensitive spot that was for Spencer. He arched his back gently beneath Derek, his body begging in a way words wouldn’t. Derek unbuttoned his shirt with an agonizing slowness, and Penelope could almost hear him giggling. Derek did love to tease. Spencer smiled hazily up at Penelope. She reached down to stroke his hair, moving around Derek and pulling Spencer into a kiss.

Spencer caressed her cheek and pulled her closer, the long fingers of his other hand slipping from beneath Derek to cup Penelope’s breasts, firm but surprisingly soft. Her head fell forward onto Spencer’s shoulder, and she felt the weight of the bed shift beneath her as Derek slid sideways, his attention now on her as she broke her kiss with Spencer. Eyes kept closed, she walked around the edge of the bed and lay down next to Spencer, his spicy scent filling her nose as his hands resumed their explorations, slowly working her robe open and off her shoulders, his kisses firm as she felt Derek’s callused fingers dig into her, equal parts possessive and permissive. Penelope’s eyes slipped closed as Derek moved his mouth lower, tongue tracing lazy circles over her skin. His mouth moved across her inner thighs to the dark wet center of his favorite Penelope tootsie-pop.

With her eyes closed and her attention otherwise engaged, she didn’t feel Spencer get up from the bed, but he must have, because in what seemed like an eternity wrapped in a second, she heard him whisper.

“Look at me, Penelope,” his voice was low and gravelly in the back of his throat, and if she hadn’t known Spencer better, it would have sounded almost like a threat, a hint of that dark side of Spencer that their love making seemed to bring out of him in a way nothing else did. So she looked at him.

Her eyes moved from the top of Derek’s head, his hands firm on her hips, to Spencer. Spencer, who now stood behind Derek, gently kissing his neck, first one side and then the other. Spencer made eye contact with Penelope, an animalistic smile on his face that sent a chill down her spine. Her Spence, her beautiful and broken Spence, was a different person right now. His eyes burned with the kind of powerful lust she always expected from Derek - and no matter how many times she saw that look in his eye, it always turned her on. Really, really turned her on. He kept his eyes locked on Penelope as he lowered first Derek’s pants, then his own. Penelope’s ears perked up for the small plastic click of an opening lube bottle, and felt deeply satisfied when she heard it. Her mind flashed briefly to the first time the three of them had been together, and none had come prepared with the proper supplies. They’d never made that mistake again.

She pressed her hips firmly into Derek’s hands, arching her back to press herself fully against him, watching the look of concentration on Spencer’s face as he began to finger Derek so slowly even Penelope began to squirm. Derek moaned against her as Spencer rode entered him from behind, slowly at first, letting Derek adjust to him before beginning a rhythm that reached a manic pace in what felt like far too short a time. Derek began to moan and, with him, Penelope. Not for the first time, Penelope wished Derek had hair to pull as she felt herself come, surprised at the violence with which it shook her body.

_‘It really has been too long,’_ she thought. _‘Too long since it’s been all three of us together like this.’_

She felt the final waves of her orgasm recede from her toes as Spencer gave a small shout and started, his knuckles white with force as they dug into Derek’s hips. There would most likely be bruises there tomorrow, but Derek never seemed to mind walking away with a mark or two. Spencer collapsed on the bed beside Derek, who looked playfully into his eyes ans he wiped his mouth and lay down between them. Both arms out, Spencer and Penelope slumped inward, resting on Derek’s chest in a contented, sweaty pile of limbs and sheets. Penelope’s arm reached over Derek, her fingers trailed through Spencer’s hair. Next to each other, every part of their skin sticky and buzzing, they fell asleep listening to breathing, heartbeats, and the ocean playing tag with the shore outside the balcony.

 

Penelope grinned to herself, the sleep slipping away, replaced with the memories of the night before. She felt a kind of deep contentment she hadn’t felt since the earliest days they’d gotten together, and she tentatively started to let herself think that maybe this trip was the exact thing they needed to fix so many things - not just Derek’s shoulder, not just his ability to return to the team, but something that seemed to be brewing between the three of them, something a long time coming.

“That you, baby girl?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“There’s coffee, Garcia!”

And there they were. The three magic words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't be more grateful for the beta read that turned this from a pile of trash into something, well, pretty hot. Thanks, [thelittlestdoc](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestdoc)!


	6. A Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always the three of them. Or has been, since they got together. But Penelope needs a day off - so what exactly is she going to do with it?

“I don’t know how you can drink your coffee like this, baby girl. How much sugar is in this?”

“Enough,” Penelope said, her voice breezy as she smacked her lips with satisfaction, licking a small foam mustache from her cupid’s bow. “Besides, my gut would rot if I drank it like you two did.”

Derek and Spencer smiled at each other, clinking glasses as Derek winked. The fact that they both took their coffee strong, black, and bitter had been the long-running joke once they’d started seeing each other. “So, pretty boy, what’s on the agenda today?”

They were finally settling into a bit of a routine in Ars-en-Ré.  They each took turns picking what they were going to do in the morning, and then it was back to the hotel for, well, super hot sex, a nap, and grooming before someone else picked the dinner spot. It was a charming schedule that had so far suited all of them; the problem was, Ars-en-Ré was not a huge town, and Derek wasn’t sure how many more walks along the docks or trips to the bustling farmer’s market he could take.

“I was thinking we could go back to the market today? The man I spoke to last time told me he was just about to pull in the rest of his summer tomatoes.”

Derek groaned internally. He looked at Penelope over the rim of his coffee mug and pleaded with her silently.  _ ‘No more market - please?’  _ She wiggled her eyebrows and smirked before setting her coffee cup down with gentle click. She loved making him sweat.

“Actually, Spence. I was thinking. I know it’s your day to pick, but what about a trip out of the city a little bit? Maybe tour those windmills we saw the other day? I was talking to Merole at the desk, and she says they’re open to tourists all week long. They’ve even got the occasional guided tour, if we’re lucky. I was also thinking - maybe you two would like to go just, you know, the two of you?”

At this, both Derek and Spencer looked a little surprised. They hadn’t done anything independent of one another since they’d arrived in Europe. “Really?”

She flashed a quick, warning look at Spencer. She had know way of knowing if Derek saw it, but judging by the quick head-nods Spencer started sending her way, she knew he had. “Yeah, D. Really.”

“I think it’d be fun,” Spencer said. “Why not. Beats the market, right Derek?” A sardonic  eyebrow danced up towards his hairline. God damn that sassy genius. 

“Right. Anything beats the market.” He stood, feeling drawn to action now that they had a vague semblance of a plan. “What’re you going to do, Penelope?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find a way to fill my time.”

 

“The Bureau promised me they’d be able to keep us updated.”

“I understand that, Ms. Garcia. And I apologize, but I simply must ask you to keep your voice down.”

They were sitting in the hotel lobby, glasses of water sweating untouched on the bar beside them. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that,” she hissed, “consider you’ve just told me you have no way of knowing where these….people are.”

“That’s not entirely true, ma’am.”

“It’s not?! Then what are we talking about, here?”

The plain-clothes INTERPOL agent in front of her took a big gulp of water, sweat starting to bead along his hairline and the edges of his nose. She wasn’t sure what short straw he’d pulled, to have to be the one to come talk to her, but she didn’t really care. The news she was getting wasn’t good. “It’s not that we don’t know where they are. It’s that they’ve apparently separated into smaller groups, one of which the agencies in question lost track of shortly after they left the United States.”

“And the other group?”

“It appears they’re staying on what we predicted would be their target course. They’ve arrived in Paris, but haven’t moved since then. That’s why I wanted to meet you today, actually.” He slid a slim billfold across the bar, the leather clearly straining with the large wad of cash stuffed inside. Her eyes went wide and she grabbed the wallet quickly, shoving the whole thing into her purse and looking around anxiously.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “You do know we’re in public, right?”

“Yes, Ms. Garcia. And again, I apologize, but this is simply the best our field office could do under the kind of short notice we had - it’s not like we could have simply had you stroll into the office now, could we?”

Penelope shook her head and felt heat flush her face. Of  _ course  _ that wasn’t a viable option, least of all because it would blow the lid off their European Vacation sales pitch that much faster. Gulping, she sat up a little straighter and tried to push some of the anxiety and strain out of her voice. 

“Of course. I’m sorry - I’m overreacting. Things have just been a little, well, tense lately.”

The agent nodded. “Of course, ma’am. And we’re doing everything we can to get you all home - safely - as quickly as possible.”

“I appreciate that. Well, I guess we’re pretty much done here?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been asked to advise you to move on to another location in the very near future. While we may not know where our assailants are, we have to assume that it’s a ticking clock before they manage to find you, even here.”

Penelope jerked her head quickly, fiddling with the strap of her purse as she slipped it on her shoulder. It felt heavier - far heavier than it should have, even with the added money. She glanced down and saw, buried underneath her makeup, two pads of pink sticky notes, and a My Little Pony she’d gotten in a Happy Meal last month, the cold and relentless glint of a gun handle. A gun she had most definitely  _ not  _ put in her purse this morning. She snapped the bag shut and hugged it a little tighter. She didn’t think the agent would mind knowing she was carrying, but she was pretty sure the other hotel guests would have more of a problem with it. 

“Thank you, Mr….?”

“Smith. Mr. Smith.”

She almost laughed. “Of course. Thank you, Mr. Smith.” She turned and walked out of the lobby, her quick steps echoing until she could have sworn she was being followed.

 

“So, how were the windmills,” she asked, Spencer’s head in her lap as she absentmindedly teased the waves, her eyes on Derek in the kitchen. He may be tired of the trips to the market, but the food lately had been out of this world.

“They were great!”

“They were cold,” Derek corrected. “Spence made me walk outside an extra half an hour AFTER the tour, just so he could get a better look at the stone striation that makes up the base of the lighthouses.”

That he could even get that entire sentence out with a straight face told her that he’d heard it umpteenth times from Spencer earlier that day.

“Well, at least you guys had each other to keep warm. I was stuck by my lonesome at the beautiful hotel spa, with nobody to love and pamper me but a very lovely French man named Louis.” Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she teased, watching both men fight the immediate but unnecessary flare of jealousy that sparked in Derek. Spencer just nodded and kept in stride.

“I hoped you tipped him well for having to deal with your toenails.”

“SPENCER REID!”

The only time he ever ran that fast was when she was chasing him, threatening to beat him within an inch of his life for being sassy - before Derek kissed it all better, of course. He moved extra fast this time as Derek shouted from the kitchen:

“You’re on your own this time, pretty boy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, guys. I started writing this chapter pre-US presidential election and, well, I'm just now in the right headspace to come back to my babies and treat them well!


End file.
